The Architect -
From Creator to Enabler
Contribution for the book "Who is the Architect?" edited by Building Diversity, and published by Danish Architectural Press in 2023.
Architects, or should I say, “people who engage with, talk, and write about architecture”, hold a certain degree of megalomania. Discussions revolving around “the role of the architect”, both in academia and in practice, tend to describe an almighty being, holding the power to save or destroy everything from individuals, families, and societies - all the way to entire ecosystems and planets. The apparent responsibility of every single person involved in the field of architecture is, therefore, immensely heavy: architects are expected, in theory, to hold greater values than any client, tenant or by-passer of their creation. It is as if the role of the architect is to shape, determine and create the realities of the mere mortals. Regardless of the fact that the vast majority of architects in practice have little-to-no influence on program or even form, the above task requires the mystical power of predicting the future, along with the pretense of being able to determine it, topped up with special expertise in every existing field. It is redundant to say that very few people possess these abilities to be both omniscient and omnipotent, and most definitely less than the number of architects who claim or are expected to have that responsibility.
On various occasions during our careers, from academia to practice, we architects are required to present alleged evidence of how our design can in itself shape behaviors and environments. So, we design empty graphs and pseudo-research on hyper-narrow fields that vaguely support our decision-making, simply because it is widely agreed upon that we should do so. We then go on and plan projects to be built in 10-15 years, which will stay there for 100 more on average, under a false premise of scientifically proven predictions. Reality, as we have learned in the past century, changes much faster than that; it is utterly impossible to foresee how things are going to be, what people are going to want or need, nonetheless expect that a certain building can determine that. Seemingly – we have a recipe for disaster; trillions of dollars and millions of hours spent on an impossible task, a blind driver with no hands trying to steer humanity into a bright future. Yet some buildings that were built decades or even centuries ago, remain active and viable even today. This article is an attempt to challenge the common perception of the architect as the Creator of realities, by offering a new motive for architectural design - the architect as an Enabler.
I can come up with a few solutions for this apparent discrepancy between the architects’ aspiration to determine the future and their inability to do so. For one, I could be wrong, and architects throughout history were indeed able to accurately predict future human behavior and needs, and have used their great power to keep humanity evolving and culture developing. Another option could be that architects are, in fact, not very important, and are swirling in the self-fed illusion of God-like significance while humanity advances regardless. A third, more appealing possibility in my eyes, is that architects are of great importance - just not exactly in the way we are used to describing it. Perhaps, in our time with its multitude of ever-shifting realities, the architect's job is not to create and enforce realities and behaviors - but to simply enable them. From the one who predicts and decides how things would or should be, to the one which makes sure they could be, whatever they might be.
Illustration by Yuan Gao
To be fair, it is until relatively recently in modern history, that the frequency and amplitude of societal changes (setting aside disasters and wars) had to some extent matched the heavy, slow-walking elephant which is architectural development. Buildings were designed and built for the long term (some might say forever), and it made sense to assume they will serve the same function for as long as they stand. An architect could design a school, or a church, or a house - and assume it will always serve that purpose and in a similar way to how he imagines it, since very few have seen drastic changes within their lifetime. But since the industrial revolution, it is arguable that programs have developed to have a shorter lifespan than buildings do. Advancements in technology, media, and geo-political and societal movements have started pushing away old programs, and left many white elephants to be either torn down, re-interpreted, or worse - simply preserved.
Architectural development has always been a slow-walking elephant in the ever-migrating jungle known as progress, but even though many aspects of construction and mobilization did become faster and more efficient - the gap between the pace of architecture and that of society is increasing exponentially. The elephant may be shinier and wear new shoes, but it can no longer catch up with the herd of cheetahs and antelopes. The question raised here is - does it even have to?
Architecture merely reflects the values, technologies, and fashions on which it is built, and to be more precise – the values of a couple of years before it is built. A public building could see even 10-15 years passing between presenting the initial idea to the building being complete. This, while programs today can become irrelevant overnight, and changes in our reality are happening at a speed that is almost beyond comprehension. It is not so uncommon to have buildings becoming irrelevant – before they are even completed. Think about it - most of the new major buildings (completed in the last 10 years) began their planning while we were still bound to stationary phones. Almost every existing parking lot was designed before Tesla. Most active schools were designed and built before the introduction of the internet, or even the PC. We are looking at buildings being built today that are meant to symbolize progress and reflect the present and the future, but most of them were designed in an era with no Tik Tok, no Wolt delivery and certainly no COVID. No one would consider buying, not to mention bragging about, buying a phone from 10 years ago, yet architecture leaves us with no other choice really.
From a sheer practical point of view, architecture alone cannot do much, besides sheltering from the weather and the environment. That is its primal intention and the original program; but over the years it grew to play a role, together with countless other parameters and actors, in the construction of our societies. And with the speed, magnitude, and amplitude in which nearly all other factors are changing, architecture should make sure it doesn't get in their way. Our built future should be based on how well architecture can adapt to change, rather than how accurately they can predict it, or worse - how aggressively they can determine it.
Despite all that, it is important to mention not all libraries got abandoned with the introduction of digital text, and not all shopping malls turned to rot when we invented online shopping. It is the ones who were able to adapt to the new reality, which remained relevant and even vibrant. It is architecture that was designed, consciously or not, to sustain and contain unforeseeable changes, which end up complementing our lives, rather than taking up space in it.
Now, I am not here to claim that architectural intentions have become obsolete, nor to defame architectural masterpieces or undermine the impact that architecture, at any scale, can have on humanity, even today. I do, though, claim that in the zeitgeist of the 21st century, the architect should shift his perception of self, from Creator to Enabler.
Emerging discourses, which describe architecture in more ephemeral terminology (design for deconstruction, temporary buildings and decomposable materials could be a few examples), are important - but might not be enough; even with the most advanced technologies and unlimited budget, the gap is just too big. So-called ‘visionary’ architectural competitions, academic projects, and conferences, which discuss and imagine the architecture of tomorrow, tend to lay their grounds on the assumption that they can predict the future - ‘the world will be like that, so this is our suggestion of how architecture should be’. ‘These are the programs and habits of the future, and this is how we will accommodate them’. Where do we get the audacity to define programs and activities in a space, before even one person has stepped in it? And even if we could do that - is that even a good thing? Imagine if the Louvre was still a royal palace, the high-line an asphalt road, and the Berghain - a mere heating plant.
It is my belief that what we should be discussing is ‘Enabling Architecture’ - one that is not, or less, bound to program. Form which enables, rather than follows, function. Though the fundamental discourse around what it means to be an Enabler is inherently an open one, and a clear, concrete definition would be contradictory to the very essence of enabling, it is now more relevant than it has ever been and can get very practical. We could start with terminology - instead of planning rigid programs defined by borders and opening, we should talk about opportunities, made possible by thresholds with interpretable accessibility. Architects should not be afraid to give power and agency to the future users of their architecture, refrain from concrete definitions for our spaces and programs, and treat architecture more like planting a seed than designing a tree. By letting go of the elemental presumption of prediction, new solutions can emerge for architecture that is open and welcoming for whoever and whatever the future may bring.
Architecture, in contrast to many of the other elements which build up our reality on this planet, has the power to physically enable – or restrict. It can either allow for or reject change, which is the only constant we can rely on when trying to foresee the future. Architects should stop trying to predict changes, let alone impose behavioral changes on society. The best thing we can do is to plan and design spaces that are versatile enough to contain the changes to come, regardless of what they might be. Architecture with the ability to shift and adjust its program along with the unpredictable changes it would surely face.
This is why I love hangars. Throughout my short-yet-eventful life, I have been to museums, nightclubs, restaurants, housing projects, gyms, and offices – all sheltered by hangars, hosting activities that their original designers couldn’t even dream of. Architecture with the simplest, most elementary yet ever-relevant function – a place to put things in - reimagined, repurposed, reshaped. The ultimate vessel for constantly changing societal needs and spatial requirements. The main issue that I have with hangars, and it is a big one - they are quite ugly. Huge, ungraceful, practical beasts, which may be very useful and flexible on the inside, but their gigantic proportions and lack of detail contagiously infect their surroundings with industrial vibes. There is no place for a hangar, as a complete unit, in a vibrant city center or a peaceful neighborhood for young families, but it is the essence of the hangar we can learn from and apply – architecture that is happy to respond to the changing of times, and not eternally remain what its architect initially intended.
So, should we completely get rid of ‘Function’ and design nothing but empty vessels with open floor plans? Not entirely. Architecture was, is, and always will be a central element in culture, an important tool for artistic expression and the conveyance of ideas, not only through ornament but also through planning. The idea of planning for the future, despite it being almost completely unknown, should also not be fully disregarded, but we should do so from a humbler perspective. The role of the enabling architect in an era of an unknown future (and to an extent – an unknown present) is to design inclusive, flexible spaces that give space for interpretation, manipulation, and surprising understandings, and not to accurately predict future programs and define future behaviors.
We are still rightfully expected to design a school, before there are too many children. We must design more houses, before people have nowhere to live. We should flood-proof our cities before the sea level rises. When new technologies arrive, we must utilize them immediately, even if they might be replaced by new ones next week. Enabling architects should continue designing spaces and environments which are inclusive, ecologically aware, and of course – beautiful. They simply just do so, while accepting that their design is a seed to be nurtured over time by its users, and not an ever-lasting hyper-defined tree to be given and used as is. This is not a call for the elimination of program and the canceling of architectural intentions, but perhaps it is time we got off our Olympus, and humbly accept that our job is not to create, predict, or define a better future, but to enable one.